Scoring Practice
by shotgunpicksthemusic
Summary: It's seven years after the Final Battle. Harry Potter has a secret on his mind; so does Ginevra Weasley. The life they'll build afterwards is what neither expected. Rated T for possible adult themes in later chapters. ***I have a lot going on, and will not be updating regularly. I am still updating! I am not promising when, though. Follow to stay updated!***
1. Chapter 1

The added half-ounce at the bottom of Harry Potter's robe pocket, amounting to little in itself, weighed heavily on the back of his mind as he watched Ginny Weasley flying a dozen meters overhead. He threw the quaffle high into the air for her and watched her fly speedily towards it, making the catch - inches before the ball hit the ground. Harry was no keeper, so he wasn't much help with goal-scoring practice. He tried, though, because she really loved to train with him. Atrocious to begin, never having handled the quaffle before, he could hardly throw in a straight line to save his life; but as they'd practiced, he'd improved slowly. This throw, though, was not satisfactory for the Harpies' top Chaser. She lobbed the quaffle straight towards Harry's head, narrowly missing, as he managed to catch it before it made contact with his face.

He rolled his eyes as Ginny turned to fly upwards once more. Harry threw the quaffle as hard as he could, her flaming red hair acting as his target. He knew he'd miss, but it was worth a try. It soared much farther than Harry had expected, and Ginny sped off to catch it before it made contact with the wet grass on which he was standing. Watching her fly so magnificently brought back memories of her during real matches with the Harpies, her figure a green-and-gold blur high above the pitch. He always felt a surge of pride when he watched her fly. He even felt a bit envious; sometimes, he wished he'd chosen to play professionally as well, though he never really regretted spending his adult life as an Auror. He liked to imagine the pride in the eyes of McGonagall or his parents every day while at-

The quaffle collided hard with the side of Harry's face.

He nearly fell from his broom in shock, but Ginny flew over swiftly and propped him up, laughing quite hysterically as she did so. She'd hit him on _purpose_.

"What the bloody _hell_, Gin?" He muttered, rubbing his head, giving her a glare and shrugging her supporting arm away from his shoulder in a pouty rage. She hovered away a few feet and stuck her tongue out at him. "That really hurt, you know." He pouted; Ginny merely rolled her eyes.

"I got bored of you daydreaming and not Keeping," she shrugged. "If you weren't over here drooling like a stupid git, I wouldn't have hit you." She swooped down to get the quaffle off the ground from where it fell after making contact with Harry's skull. Flying down beside her quickly, he managed to tackle her off of her broom and onto the ground a few inches below.

"That's an illegal move!" she said, in mock-outrage. "You can't knock me off my broo-"

Her sarcastic accusation was cut short by a quick kiss. She screwed up her freckled face and bitterly returned the kiss to his cheek, where a red mark was sure to bruise later in the day.

As his mind wandered back to the thing in his pocket, Harry's heart began to pound once more. Ginny moved as though to stand, but he touched her arm gently, motioning for her to stay seated on the ground with him.

"My robes are getting dirty, Harry." She rolled her eyes at him, obviously finding his ideas very dumb.

"It's... important," He muttered defensively, a lump growing in his throat with every second. His cheeks flushed and his breathing sped up; he seriously wondered to himself if he'd even be able to speak the next few sentences aloud. He was dimly aware that, though he'd expected her to argue and try to stand again, she instead scooted closer to him and sat silently in the muddy earth.

"Me too, actually. I've got something to say." She reached into her pockets and pulled out some sweets - a couple of boxes of chocolate frogs and a licorice wand. She nibbled on the end of the wand, feeding a bite to Harry; this calmed his nerves, but only slightly.

"Well, I, uh... Would you like to go first?" He asked, slightly annoyed that she was ruining his moment. He was truly relieved when she shook her head and waved her hand, motioning that he should continue first. "I, um... Well, I was really wondering if, maybe..." He was awkwardly reminded of his attempts to get Cho Chang alone in his fourth year to ask her to the Yule Ball. Why did those sorts of memories have to crop up so intrusively? This was real… this was Ginny. Not some Hogwarts crush.

His hand fumbled in his pocket to find the small object inside. When his fingers finally united with it, his shaking hands removed it from his robes, clutching it tight like a Snitch caught after a long match. Harry opened his palm to show Ginny the silver ring in his sweating hand. Her eyes opened wide and put her hand to her mouth in a small, uncharacteristic show of shock, before she reigned in herself, eyeing the ring with silent wonder.

"Would you like to, um, marry me?" he asked her, swallowing the lump with great effort and offering a hopeful smile.

"Merlin's beard, Harry... Did you enchant this yourself?" Her eyes were filled, but she dared not let them spill over as she slipped the ring onto her finger. It was simple, mostly silver, but there was a tiny brown quaffle that circled the band, flying through the golden goal hoop on one side.

"Uh, yeah, Hermione helped... well, she did it, actually. I couldn't get it right..." Harry blushed a deep red color, aware that he was rambling. He was not sure what to do now that the hard part was over. He had been planning this for weeks, but he never considered what to do if she never answered the question. But then she smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him the way she had on his seventeenth birthday.

"Of course I will, you prat. Of course I will!" She sat up straight again, looking through his green eyes with her bright brown ones.

"I'm… glad you asked, actually…." She had a casual, knowing sort of smile, and a hint of a laugh in the creases around her lips.

"Oh. Right," Harry muttered guiltily, having entirely forgotten that she had news, as well. "Erm, what was it that you wanted to say?"

She caught him off-guard with another, softer kiss, and for the first time that evening, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye the hand that now had his silver ring firmly upon it, hovering protectively over her stomach. His eyes widen slowly in recognition, the lump in his throat replaced by a knot in his stomach. Her wide, toothy smile caught him off guard as his soon-to-be wife leaned towards him, her lips pressed close to his ear.

"I'm pregnant, Harry Potter."

All in all, Harry thought, there really had never been a better practice session than this one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Ginny had already been fairly certain of her ailment a week earlier. If the cravings for sweets and onion soup weren't indication enough, she had also been vomiting at strange intervals, and felt tired all the time. She wasn't positive yet; she would have to make a potion for that, one that could give her a specific answer she didn't yet have. But she was worried about the potential outcome. What would Harry say about it? What if he didn't think it was a very pleasant surprise at all? Still, she nearly confessed to him one night as they lie in bed together, nearly asleep.

"Harry?"

She heard him reach for his wand on the nightstand and whisper _"Lumos"_ so they could see each other. His wandbeam ran across the ancient upholstery of silver and deep green, the peeling wallpaper and sinister shadows of 12 Grimmauld Place's master bedroom. The light shining back off of his own bright green eyes was enough for Ginny's nerves to go temporarily haywire.

"Yeah?" He rolled over towards her, looking slightly worried. "What is it?"

"I..." A lump formed in her throat, growing so large she truly thought she might choke. She must have screwed up her face from nerves without realizing it, for Harry's face reflected worry. "I... er, I love you." She exhaled the breath that she had been holding unknowingly, and Harry relaxed a bit.

"Is that all?" He still looked wary, but Ginny forced a smile, kissing his cheek softly.

"I just... I'm not feeling well. I think I'll skip practice tomorrow." She turned away from him, unable to look into his eyes any longer. She never skipped practice, ever. She'd once threatened George with a Bat-Bogey Hex until he'd agreed to give her the purple end of a puking pastille for free, so that she could make it to a game during a rather nasty bout of flu. Playing with the Harpies was Ginny's entire life, apart from Harry himself. He must have know that something was wrong.

"You must really be feeling down, Gin... You sure about this?" He reached out a gentle hand to brush a strand of fiery red hair from her cheek. She gave another brave smile and nodded.

"I'm fine. I'll make a potion tomorrow to clear it up. It's just a cold, probably." Ginny suddenly felt a twinge of guilt at the lie. She just couldn't do it today, not until she was certain... she tried to sound sure of herself, and she must have fooled Harry well enough, because he wrapped his arm around her again and returned his wand (with a quick _"Nox_") to the nightstand before falling into a deep sleep behind her.

Ginny hadn't been lying; she definitely intended on making a potion today, but she wasn't trying to cure a head cold. She spent several boring hours sitting by the fire, stirring the steaming purple liquid inside and occasionally adding ingredients, desperately wishing she could be at Quidditch practice instead.

A few times, she had to get up from the fire and run to the bathroom to puke, but towards midday the nausea had passed as it usually did. As she was not doing much to the brewing potion, she had a lot of time to sit and think. Would she still be able to play with the Harpies? She might not be able to see through this season... _That would be okay, right?_ She tried to ease her worries, _They'll let me come back next year, won't they?_ Sighing, she finally poured the potion into a cup. Worrying would have to wait until later.

As with a number of non-magical innovations of the past few centuries, the Muggle pregnancy test was, whether they realized it or not, modeled after the effects of the potion that Ginny had spent the morning brewing diligently; the substance reacted to the presence of a developing soul, or something like that, and within moments would display a mark just above the navel, passable as a rash or skin abrasion aside from the uniformity of the shape. Ginny drank her glass quickly, face screwed up in displeasure at the unsavory flavor of the purple liquid, hot and sticky and coating her throat like bad molasses. She washed the revolting mixture down with a glass of water, and stood in front of the wall mirror in the hallway, taking a shuddering breath and pausing as she looked at her own reflection; her normally lively brown eyes looked hollow and tired. She lifted the front of her robes and stared down at a spot just below her belly button.

A faint, red, rash-like line shone like a beacon against her pale skin.

She couldn't help but keep her eyes on the line in incredulous disbelief; she had assumed this outcome for days, weeks even, but she still couldn't believe the line was really there. It was strikingly similar to the way she had felt when her Hogwarts letter had arrived, half a lifetime ago.

The potion wore off within a few minutes and the line disappeared again, Ginny flopped down solidly into a red and gold armchair. _I've got to tell him now..._ after dinner tonight, she decided. Yes, that would be good. The clock on the wall (a normal clock with twelve hands, much unlike the one she grew up with) said that it was nearing six. Standing and heading to the kitchen, the slight bump of a stomach under her baggy robes was constantly on her mind. Quickly waving her wand about and throwing things upon the fire, she soon had the smell of onion soup filling the entire house. The witch decided to sit down again, warranting her laziness to the baby that she now knew was growing inside of her. She began daydreaming feverously, many thoughts wandering in and out of her mind. And assortment of questions bombarded her brain, inquiries such as: boy, or girl? Red hair, or black? Green eyes, or brown? She knew she was several months away from knowing the answers; it frustrated her immeasurably.

Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity of thinking, Ginny heard the familiar bang of what might have been a car backfiring outside.

"Harry!" she yelled with glee, jumping up and running to the door that had just opened. Harry accepted her hug with a smile, his hair more disheveled than normal and his glasses askew on his face. He slipped his wand into his robes quickly, as Ginny had grabbed his hand and was now pulling him through the hall.

"I made dinner," she announced, waving her wand around so that the soup poured itself into two bowls that had set themselves at the table. They sat down together, Harry, sitting across from her, looking tired but happy. Ginny smiled at him, trying to contain her nerves and failing spectacularly.

"Hey, Gin, have you been feeling any better? Did the potion help?" His eyes, those bright green eyes, held real love, real concern, and she grinned, a genuine smile, and she felt a wave of happiness surge through her. _Of course he'll be excited..._ She thought as she began to eat slowly. He loved her; she knew that. The only problem was getting the words to come out.

She thought she could manage, but as Harry had begun talking about his day at work, her nerves got the best of her once again. They ate their meal together and headed up to bed - Harry wanted her to rest, as she had not been feeling well the night before. _Tomorrow_, she thought, _Tomorrow. I have to tell him..._

Ginny had nearly fallen asleep when Harry stirred next to her.

"Hey, Gin?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't have to go into the office tomorrow. Want to practice your scoring a bit since you missed out today?" He was close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. She shivered slightly, smiling deeply into the darkness, but kept her tone casual.

"Oh. Sure. 'Course I do."

She felt, rather than saw, the small smile on Harry's lips through the dark, though she had no idea what he had to be so happy about.

"Great," he said. There was a pause, then:

"Hey, Gin?"

"Hmm?"

"You know I love you, right?"

She grinned. "Of course I do, you great prat." She heard him laugh quietly before turning over and starting to snore. Ginny sighed and closed her eyes, resolving silently, with her final conscious thought, that she would tell him tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

(Author's note: I'm so, so incredibly sorry about how long this chapter has taken! For anyone who has been following, I do solemnly swear to have chapter four (which I've already begun writing) up by this Saturday back on schedule. Thank you for your patience!)

**Chapter Three**

"You're joking."

Harry hadn't thought that he would ever feel better than he had when Ginny agreed to marry him a week ago, but that was before he'd seen the expression of mingled bewilderment and dawning comprehension on Ron Weasley's freckled face.

"But that means… you two have… but she doesn't-"

"_Honestly_, Ron," breathed Hermione, beaming as she wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders and gave him a tight, very Mrs. Weasley-ish hug. "That's brilliant, Harry, absolutely brilliant. I'm so happy for you two!"

"Yeah," mumbled Harry, smiling awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was early morning, and they were sitting at the Burrow's kitchen table; Hermione's bushy brown hair was rolled up in a loose and untidy bun and she wore a thick, red winter cardigan, looking distinctly different from her usual deep brown robes and perfectly tied-back hair that befit the Junior Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. On the other hand, Ron - in his blazingly orange sweater embroidered with a moving Chudley Cannons' logo and a slight ginger stubble - looked hardly different from his "professional" dress, working as he did at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes alongside George.

"But Ginny and he aren't… well… I mean to say, Mum expected her to wait, is all. Until she and Harry, er, officially…." Ron swallowed, his voice trailing off as he sat down at the table.

"You mean like you two waited?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

Hermione's face flushed to match her cardigan, but she still didn't quite match the glorious sunset glow that was Ron.

"That's… uh…." she tried, retreating into her still-steaming mug of butterbeer.

Harry let out a laugh. He hadn't ever caught his two best mates in the act personally, but an unfortunate Neville had - the very night after the end of the final battle, in the otherwise empty History of Magic classroom.

"Well, that's besides the point," said Ron, awkwardly shuffling his oversized feet and swallowing a mouthful of butterbeer with a loud gulp. "Ginny's young!"

"She's only a year younger, and Hermione shared seventh year with her," Harry pointed out.

"And besides," said Hermione, cutting in on Harry's side as she turned to face her husband, "They've been dating for ages, _and _they're going to be married. What else do you want?"

Ron opened his mouth to protest and immediately sloped half a mouthful of butterbeer down his orange Cannons sweater. Hermione broke into a fit of giggles and lifted her wand from the kitchen table, waving it once at him; the butterbeer vanished.

"Yeah… er… well," he muttered, defeated, as he eyed his treacherous bottle of butterbeer with dislike. "I mean… I _am _happy for you, mate."

"Brilliant, then we're all happy for Harry," smiled Hermione, yawning. She reached down beneath the table and heaved Crookshanks up onto her lap from where he had been skulking about her heels. Harry, not knowing what else to add, finally sat back down at the circular table, across from Ron and on Hermione's left. Hermione drew him up his own bottle of butterbeer with her wand without so much as a second glance, which Harry graciously accepted, taking a slow, wary sip of its contents and appreciating the warmth that spread throughout his tired body.

"Harry!"

Nearly dozing off in his chair, Harry was awoken quickly by the gleeful shout of Mrs. Weasley. She squeezed him from behind his chair, knocking the breath from his lungs. "Ginny's just told me about the engagement last night! Oh, and the _baby_, how exciting!" Her round face was lit up and smiling, seemingly without end. Ron looked utterly stunned-apparently, he had been counting on his mother's disappointment to justify his own awkward objections. Standing, he faced his mother-in-law.

"Er, yeah," he said, not knowing what else to add. Though Molly seemed to ignore the obvious fact of how babies are made, Harry still felt enormously strange to be speaking about such things with the woman who had practically raised him as a second mother.

"I'm very happy for you two. I was hoping she'd be here with you… well, nevermind, I can still give you this." She pulled a perfectly wrapped, circular package from a pocket inside her robes and handed it to Harry, who stood there as he accepted the gift. Inside was a clock, but one with no numbers-there were Harry and Ginny's names, as well as a hand with no name that was moving very quickly around the clock, never settling on one spot. Around the edge were such phrases as "Work," "Home," "Hogwarts," "Prison," and "Mortal Peril". Looking up, Harry noticed that it was nearly the same clock as was hanging on the wall of the Burrow's kitchen.

"Wow… this is brilliant," Harry smiled earnestly, watching the unlabeled hand spin endlessly.

"You're quite welcome, dear," she beamed. "The enchantment doesn't seem to know what to do for a baby in the womb... I suppose it will stop once they're born. I left a space for a name, you see, for you to add," She pointed. Harry smiled and hugged her.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Weasley."

It was a moment before he took notice of the actual watch on his wrist, another gift of Mrs. Weasley's that had once belonged to her brother, Fabian. It was nearly ten past eight. "I've got to get going. Kingsley wants me on duty in London tonight," he addressed to the kitchen, and, with a jumble of "goodbyes" and a third hug from Mrs. Weasley, Harry walked out of the Burrow and Disapparated halfway down the garden path.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"I'm glad you invited me, I've never been invited to a wedding before," said the brutally honest Luna Lovegood as her and Ginny strode down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley. "I don't think anyone has ever really liked me enough."

Ginny merely rolled her eyes. "Of course I invited you! You're my friend, Luna." She stopped, looking over the top of an elderly witch's pointed hat. "Oh, look at this!" She darted to a window display at Madam Malkin's, in which there was very nice, very expensive set of blue dress robes. When Ginny stepped forward, the mannequin wearing the robes gave a start and began modelling the outfit to show her more angles.

"That's got to be expensive. Do you have enough gold?" Luna asked, not entirely focused on the shop window, but instead on the upside-down _Quibbler_ in her hands. "Did you know there was a Mangy Kripkin sighting in Ireland yesterday? They're rather attracted to the color blue. I wonder if you could catch one wearing those robes?"

Ignoring this lesson on Mangy Kripkins, Ginny squinted through the glass at the price tag while the mannequin did a curtsey.

"It's nearly thirty galleons…." She bit her lip, checking the contents of her drawstring bag; it held enough, but not much more. Ginny had to remind herself for the umpteenth time that her salary from the Harpies and Harry's own Ministry pension, combined with the comfortable pile of gold in Harry's Gringotts vault, made such a purchase no big deal; growing up, such a purchase on a single set of dress robes would have been unthinkable. "I'm sure it'll be okay," she said finally, determined. "Let's go get it." Pulling the distracted Luna by the wrist, she waltzed purposefully into the store.

The inside of Madam Malkin's was stuffy and cramped, every inch of wall space covered with fabric and hanging sets of robes and gowns. Across from the door, the front desk was loaded with parchment, quills and inkwells in those places where yet more robes were not hanging off the edge, waiting no doubt to be picked up by their owners after some repair or other. A door behind led to the fitting rooms, while a tall and narrow staircase curved on the other side to a spacious hanging room upstairs. The shop reminded Ginny strongly of what a rich old lady's closet ought to look like.

While haphazardly tossing the contents of her purse onto the counter, she pulled out a slip of parchment from under the pile in Mrs. Weasley's handwriting:

_Things to Buy:_

_-Flowers (blue or gold, 3 dozen)_

_-Wedding bands (for bride and groom)_

_-Lady's white dress robes (Harry can buy his own, I'm sure)_

_-Cake (I've filled an order with Florean Fortescue already)_

"Look at this, Luna... Flowers... Cake... This is all rubbish. Why does my mother have to be so _boring_." She folded it back into her pocket. She considered a set of deepest black wedding robes before deciding on a light blue, with Luna's smile of approval.

"Well, that's one thing taken care of," she said, taking the robes out and handing them over to the elderly Madam Malkin, who quickly fitted her and had the robes folded into a plain brown package while Ginny paid up front.

"Er… what's next? Do you think there should be flowers?" she asked Luna desperately.

Her friend shrugged. "Weddings are supposed to have flowers, I think. But I suppose it's up to you. Flowers are a bit dull." Luna pulled out her wand and shrunk the package to a size that easily fit in her pocket.

"And _white_ robes? Why on earth would I wear that? It'd be dirty in five minutes!"

Ginny was just considering heading to the florist's shop further down the alley when she spotted a bright, flashy orange and green sign in her peripheral. "Oh, _stupid_!" She breathed. Why hadn't she thought of going to her brother? Ginny grabbed ran towards the building, Luna trailing after her.

"George! You in here?" Ginny called out the moment she pushed into the wide, brightly lit shop front. A couple of Hogwarts age students near the door looked up at her as she entered. Ginny heard a box drop, a loud and excited swear, and the falling of heavy feet as George Weasley came forward from the back storage room.

"There you are! Mum's told me that you and Harry are getting hitched. And..." He nudged her shoulder, snickering. "I thought _I_ was the only trouble-maker left in the family. Pregnant_ before _the wedding?"

Ginny flushed bright red, the perfect compliment to her flaming hair.

"Oh, shut up, you prat," she mumbled, smiling at him all the same as she began to move deeper into the store. "I'm here 'cause of the wedding, actually. Mum thought I should get _flowers_."

George gave her a look of utmost horror.

"You? Boring flowers?" He looked as though he were about to explode with laughter. "Well, you're here, aren't you? Not following mum's orders?"

"It's _my_ wedding. I'm thinking something more... Flashy. Got any fireworks in stock?"

A grin flashed across his face, the sort that would have been shared on his twin's.

"Wicked. I know exactly what you two need!" He ran towards the back of the store.

Ginny turned to Luna, who was admiring some products that lined the shelves.

"Blue robes and fireworks? That's a very odd choice," Luna said, turning back to her friend. Not wanting to seem insensitive, Ginny forced back her laugh. Luna, calling her strange? Hilarious!

"What do you think? I guess I should get a cake, though. But I'll have George fix it up a bit... Maybe stick something in the middle of it, you think?" But she was talking to nobody. Luna had disappeared to look at the many shelves once more, no longer in sight. Ginny gave a sigh and searched around the shop.

George emerged from behind a tall shelf, carrying a box filled with fireworks bearing three crossed-over violet W's, barely holding the thing at waist height.

"George, did you see where Luna went?" she asked in an almost exasperated tone; this wasn't the first time Luna Lovegood had wandered off on her own. Bystanders often thought she was looking for a lost cat, not her best friend.

George gave a shrug, dropping the box on the counter. "Can't have gone far, can she?" he said noncommittally. Frustrated, Ginny turned away and quickly spotted Luna by a shelf.

"What's that you're looking at?" She ran up beside her friend, examining the packages. They were small boxes of things that resembled Wizard Crackers at a glance, except they were in the shape of a truly hideous pair of dress robes that, according to the illustration, released conjured white doves when pulled apart by the sleeves.

"They're Wedding Crackers," said Luna happily, handing Ginny a box. "I thought you might like one. The robes seem to match the style you and Harry are going for.

Choosing to ignore the end of that comment, Ginny took the box gladly. It seemed like the sort of thing Harry would find funny-the robes closely resembled the set Ron had worn to the Yule Ball in her third year.

"Thanks, Luna," she smiled, bringing both the box and her friend to the front counter where her fireworks sat. George was waiting with interest.

"All done?" He started counting out a handful of galleons and tossed them into a drawer; Ginny was counting too.

"Hey, those are worth fifteen! You only took seven."

"Yeah, because you're my little sister and you're getting married, you git," George said, shoving her head back from across the counter.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "You've haven't given Ron so much as a coupon in seven years."

"Yeah, well, that's Ron we're talking about, isn't it?" he shrugged, giving the merest hint of a smirk. "Go on, sis. Mum'll want to see your haul and she'll have my head if I kept you out too late."

With an appreciative smile, Ginny grabbed the Wedding Crackers (the box of fireworks was much too heavy and she had Luna put a levitating charm on it) and walked out of the store into the sunlit street.

Ginny apparated home from the Burrow several hours later, nearly after sundown. Mrs. Weasley had shown reservations about her spending choices ("Are you absolutely sure you don't want flowers to go with the, uh, fiery explosions?") but in the end she had relented. Ginny said goodbye to Luna before walking down the garden path and turning on the spot.

She was somewhat surprised when Harry wasn't already home, but decided that she'd pass the next half hour until his return reading a six month old _Witch Weekly _and making sure the soup she had helped Kreacher prepare that morning didn't boil over on the stovetop. She was taken by great surprise when a great green fire erupted in her fireplace and her father stepped out.

"What're you doing he-"

"It's Harry," She was cut off by Mr. Weasley's stunned voice. "He's in St. Mungo's."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_... Vulnera sanentur… Vulnera sanentur..._

Ginny chewed off nearly all of her fingernails as she heard the song-like incantations coming from the room where her fiancé lay unconscious. Staring at the fourth floor directory had calmed her nerves slightly, and she managed to stop the flow of tears. As the healer stepped out of the room, however, they came again with ease.

"He should be waking soon, and his wounds have been healed," Ginny gave a heavy sigh of relief at her words. "But, as he was brought to us a while after the wounds were inflicted, the intense scarring is unlikely to go away." She nodded slowly; a scarred Harry was better than a dead one.

"Can I go in...?"

The healer nodded her head gingerly and gestured towards to cracked door.

"The blood-replenishing potion should be finishing up now, but please, call if anything is needed." Before Ginny could reply, the healer hurried down the hall to another room where she could hear a faint meowing sound.

Ginny didn't know what to expect when she saw her husband in the plain hospital room, but she didn't expect the heartache that she felt at this moment. She cupped her hand over her mouth and nudged the door closed, unsure of what she should do. Harry stirred and squinted his eyes open.

"Gin?" His voice was croaky and tired, and he tried to sit up before his fiancée rushed over to help prop him up. "Thanks... Er, hi." He attempted a smile but gave up quickly.

'Are - are you okay?" she asked hesitantly. He flung the blanket off of his chest, revealing the wounds that littered his torso. Ginny gasped. "Harry... what did you... what happened?" She lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing Harry's hair from his forehead, showing a section of his scar. She watched as he rubbed his finger gently over a wound that was leaving a messy, tangled scar.

"I.. wasn't careful enough, obviously. There were more than I thought; I had just contacted Arthur to call in some backup, and..." He gestured to his torn-up chest, and whispered so quietly Ginny could barely hear his next words, "_Sectumsempra_..." Ginny bit her lip, holding back tears.

"How long were you out there? How did you get out...?" She reached absent-mindedly for her his hand and squeezed hard as he lifted the blanket back over himself.

"Only about ten minutes before your Dad arrived with help... They fought off the dark wizards, and got me here. It took almost an hour to get rid of the threat and transport me here, though, so dittany wouldn't help the scarring at that point."

"Oh, Harry..."

"Ginny, I'm sorry... I-I didn't think anything would happen. Obviously, I didn't." He turned away from his crying girlfriend, avoiding the tears falling to her cheeks that pained him inside.

"I'm not blaming you, Harry." She was shocked by his apology; how could it have been his fault? "I was just... I was thinking about..." Harry turned towards her again, reluctantly, and saw her hand resting on her stomach. He exhaled heavily, as though he had already pondered this.

"I know. This is going to be hard, isn't it? Marrying you, the baby..." he trailed off, a tear beginning to form in the corner of his eye. He reached for Ginny's hand and squeezed it tight for comfort. They sat in silence together for several minutes, the silence broken by the healer's knock on the door.

"Is it ok to come in?" The voice was sure and calm - the opposite of what the couple felt at the moment. Harry muttered a 'yes' and the healer stepped into the room.

"Can I get you anything? How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?" She gave him a once-over and seemed to have decided that he was doing fine. "I can let you go as soon as you want. Your wounds seem to be doing well," she lifted the sheet gingerly, checking on his torso to make sure everything was right. "And I don't think you want to be cooped up in the hospital all night, do you?" She offered a smile, and Ginny tried to return the favor, though it turned into more of a grimace.

"Yes, I think we'll be fine to leave." Harry grunted as he sat himself up in the bed. "Ginny, could you apparate home for us? I'm sapped of energy." She nodded and helped him up, the healer holding the door for them as they left the room.

"Have a nice night!" She called cheerily from the doorway as Ginny apparated with Harry holding on tight to her arm.

After a nearly midnight meal of onion soup, Harry and Ginny settled into bed. The house was quiet and dark - a perfect match for the feelings resting inside it. Ginny would not let go of her fiancé's hand, but no tears fell at the moment. Harry broke the silence.

"Do you still want to marry me?" The words hung in the air like deadly smoke for several seconds after he said them. Ginny was quiet; she didn't know what to say. The question had taken her off guard. Harry squeezed her hand gently.

'Of course I do, you prat." She let out a tiny laugh, but it sounded forced and strained. He kissed her softly on the lips and tried out a smile in the dark bedroom, seeming to succeed, at least for a moment.

"I'm serious, Ginny. If you're having second thoughts because of all this... I understand, you know." He stared deeply into her brown eyes, scared of her words to come.

"I know you're serious. And I am, too. I love you." She truly smiled then, kissing him again and scooting her body towards his for warmth. "Besides, where would I go? I've already got your baby on the way."

"Oh, right, I must've forgotten about that." Harry rolled his eyes in the dark and lay down again, eyes still trained on his soon-to-be wife's lovely face. Brushing a lock of flaming red hair from her cheek, he kissed her once more.

"I love you, Harry Potter. And you're going to marry me whether you like it or not." She closed her eyes and smiled, nudging his foot with hers.

"Then I guess I have no choice, Miss Weasley." His eyes closed, and they both drifted off to sleep with smiles on their lips.


End file.
